


What if Cyril slept at Camille's

by natproms1 (littlethanktosomeoneachday)



Category: Touche Pas A Mon Poste ! RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-12
Updated: 2016-05-12
Packaged: 2018-06-08 01:16:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6832948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethanktosomeoneachday/pseuds/natproms1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Cyril slept at Camille's</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Had cymillelambanane's headcanon in mind all day. thought about this while i was working and i finally had the time to write it down.

They’re at Camille’s. Cyril indeed can’t sleep at his place tonight. He might have said too much today on the show. Actually he could have gone home, a little bit of begging along with his apologies would have worked. But then Camille offered and he just couldn’t say no.

When diner is eaten and they’re both ready to call it a day, Camille calls dibs for the shower. After all, it is his place, he can choose. 

He takes his shower but they keep on talking through it, not caring about the noise the water makes on the tiles. Cyril’s leaning against the door frame, door open, and the bathroom is small enough that their voices can be heard over the noise.

Then Camille walks out of the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. And Cyril can’t breathe any longer. He looks him up and down and Camille frowns. But he doesn’t step back when Cyril steps forward. He doesn’t move away or flinches when Cyril leans in, on the tip of his toes, and captures his lips. He doesn’t really capture his lips really, they’re just touching his. Just a peck. A chaste kiss. But that leaves him burning with desire -cliché, he knows, but you can’t really call it any other way, the way his skin feels so hot, the way his gut’s telling him to go and get some more of that feeling. And when Cyril moves away to check he’s not gonna punch him in the face, he cups his face and kisses him back with full force, pushing him against the counter. 

His hands slide down and come to rest on Cyril’s hips, holding him tightly, and he presses his body into Cyril’s. His bare chest is flush against Cyril’s t-shirt and he can’t stand it, he needs more, so he undresses him before pressing into him again, sealing their lips once more. 

They both feel light headed with the lack of oxygen but it doesn’t seem to bother them. Hands are roaming over one another, mapping their body, committing every reaction to memory. Every gasp, every moan, every growl. Especially the one Cyril makes when Camille bites down gently in the crook of his neck. And that hiss when he pushes his knee between his legs and can finally feel his hard on through the towel. 

But much like all started -out of the blue, Camille moves away. He doesn’t have a disgusted look on his face and that could reassure Cyril. Instead, he looks shocked.

“What are we doing?” He says in a breathe. He looks down at Cyril’s lips. Back up to his eyes. He shouldn’t be doing this. One, Cyril’s his bestfriend. Two, he’s his boss. Three, he does have a girlfriend -even if that fight happened that has been keeping them apart for the past week or so, he does have a girlfriend.

He steps back. Stumbling out of the bathroom, he quickly puts some pajamas bottoms on and gives a towel to Cyril so he can take a shower. He closes the door on his confused face. He grabs a pillow and some covers and gets Cyril’s bed ready on his couch. Then with a scowl -unhappy with himself, mostly mad- he slides under his covers and tries to fall asleep as fast as he can. Thankfully, the day was tiring enough he doesn’t have to mutter long to himself about how stupid he has been.

____

Then in the morning, when he wakes up with a boner and images from a dream involving a very naked very aroused Cyril doing some very naughty things with him, he doesn’t find the strength to regret the night before. He gets off in the shower as quickly as he can then he gets out of his bedroom. Cyril’s still sleeping on the couch. He smiles at his form under the cover and the way his hair is all over the place. 

But he mentally slaps himself. He makes some coffee, grabs a bite of bread and is sipping is coffee when Cyril emerges. He strokes his eyes, trying to scrub the need to sleep away. He accepts the mug Camille hands him with a smile. 

“I’ve got to go.” Cyril only nods at his word. He’s not really awake yet. Camille smiles at the state of him.

He taps him on the shoulder, kisses the top of his head and is out of the flat under a minute, just the time to check he has his keys and phone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> part 2. it’s ridiculous, far fetched, barely nsfw, not beta-ed, finished just a few minutes ago, 2.6k of pining. what else can i say. not proud of it. but i gotta share because i don’t want to come back on it. the plot holes are stupid and don’t mind them, just go along with the flow, alright.

“So… Did you tell Emilie?” “No, did you?” “Well, no! Why would I talk to your wife?” “Girlfriend. I meant yours.” “Oh. No.” “Ok. "How about we just forget about it?” “Alright.”

They bumped into each other in the Europe 1/Virgin Radio building. And Camille thought he’d handled the matter pretty well. No one knew, it was very much like it all had been a dream. A weird dream, but still a dream. It had been a little bit harder on Cyril. Because Camille had referred to his partner as a wife, which she was not, as she yet again claimed not so long ago, and because Camille had said the words he definitely didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want to forget about it. He may have lied to himself for a long time about his feelings for Camille but now that it was clear for him, he wasn’t going to hide it. Well, he didn’t want to have to. Camille hadn’t seemed disgusted or shocked, but the regret he saw in his eyes and posture and heard in his words, yeah, that hurt pretty hard.

They don’t see or talk to each other before TPMP and Camille’s chronique. Camille’s ready for it to be just like any other day. Cyril’s more on the edge than usual but he’s keeping together. Until, that moment he just spills the bean to Nikos and Patrick. Patrick is an old friend and Cyril knows he can tell him anything and Patrick will keep a straight face. And he can’t stop himself, he’s too tired to think it all through. Camille’s cry helps a bit, he’s definitely taken aback and surprised. Did he really thought they could go back to how it was before? That’s the brief thought that goes through his head before he gets back to being Cyril Hanouna, l'animateur.

On Camille’s side, it’s a little bit different yet again. When he hears those words, “on a cassé”, he won’t lie, it hurt like hell. For half a second, he thought Cyril was gonna say something about the kiss, or say it was the reason why they couldn’t stay together (he could totally have said he was terrible kisser).Then he goes back to being Camille Combal, le Fayot.

They both try not to think too much about the banana moment. Cyril, yet again, didn’t think. Camille, yet again, trusted Cyril. It happened, it’s over and done with and now they’re home and it means something if Camille comes with Cyril’s name on his lips and not his girlfriend’s. She picks up on it, looks at him funny and he tries to find a reason why Cyril would be on his mind at such a crucial moment. He doesn’t find one. So she starts to get mad. She never thought their game would go this far. She’d been annoyed by the amount of time Camille spend with him but hell, they were bestfriends and coworkers, they couldn’t exactly not see each other. And she didn’t have a say in it, and she was nearly fine with it. But that, it was way too much. She moved off him, picked up her clothes, her purse and left their flat. And he was left spread out on the bed, spent. In every sense of the word. He couldn’t even believe himself that he had said -more like moaned, such a name.

When he sees Cyril the next day, he can’t stop himself from thinking about that thing that happened the previous night and he tries to avoid him for the rest of the day. Which is quite easy in the end, you just have not to answer his text or his calls and since Camille knows his schedule by heart now (scheduling lunches, working with him on stuff, etc. has given him a pretty good idea of where Cyril is and when). But it does mean that by the time he reaches the studios, Cyril’s on him the second he walks through the door. He grabs him by the arm and leads him into an unused room and closes the door behind them.

“What the fuck is up with you?”

Camille tries to play like he doesn’t know what Cyril means. It’s definitely not the way to go about it. And Cyril sees red. “What the fuck?! is up?! with ?!!” Cyril repeats, stepping closer.

Camille can only step back and mutter a weak “nothing”. He’s never seen Cyril in such a state. The staring is the scariest thing Camille’s ever seen. He can’t maintain the gaze and averts his eyes. But Cyril is still boring holes into his skull. If they were in a cartoon, fumes would be leaking out of his nose and ears and he’s be tomato red. Which isn’t so far from the truth, Camille can nearly see it. “Alright.” And with that, Cyril turns around and storms out of the room. Camille just stands there, not knowing, what to do, just completely lost. It takes him a minute to leave the room, shocked by Cyril’s behaviour.

Cyril leaves the building in a hurry and steals one of Bertrand’s smokes. He takes a puff, coughes -been too long since the last, then crushes it under the heel of his shoe. He’s not calmed down, but it’ll do. He gets on with his life much like he would with his show, he turns to someone else and gets them to talk about whatever he wants. Isabelle, as annoying as she usually is with her stories brings such a relief he simply hugs her. She’s surprised but takes it well. She notices, she’s a long time friend, but she doesn’t say a thing. She did see Cyril and Camille storm off into one of the rooms, and she saw the state in which they both got out. She’ll let them stew on it and deal with it themselves. It doesn’t look like they need someone else to join their mess.

The show starts, Cyril isn’t as mad anymore and he doesn’t have any reports about it so it is most probably not showing and he is glad for that.

When Camille comes on, he acts as if nothing happenned in the last two days. They even fight, and maybe it has something to do with the fact Cyril is mad at him, but Camille doesn’t seem to notice that. So Cyril moves on, with the show, then with his life.

But Camille does pick up on it. It startles him, even though he plays along like everything is fine. But inside, he’s already regretting not answering any of Cyril’s calls and texts. He’s angered him and he doesn’t know how to make it right. Because he doesn’t even know where they’re standing anymore. They kissed, he wanted to forget but it seems like both his heart and dick can’t. And the brain can’t do much against the both of them.

The show ends, they go home. Cyril to Emilie. Camille to an empty flat. Céline hasn’t come back. How could she after what he’s done to her. But he does call her.

And he says the truth. He tells her that he’s kissed Cyril and he doesn’t know what to make of it and she hangs up on him. He later receives a text saying they’re finished. Well. He wasn’t really expecting her to give him a solution and he really wasn’t clever in calling his- well now ex about cheating on her with his boss.

The next day is Friday. They’re not supposed to see each other. Camille still hasn’t apologized and it shows Cyril would like him in the way he won’t take his call. So Camille does apologize. Genuinly, because he is sorry about the way he behave like a dickhead. But what more could he say? He’s sorry, but why? Because he wants them to be best friend again? Because he wants them to be more than that? It’s all happening way too fast.

He ends up sending a couple of texts that, in sum, says he’s sorry, that he regrets and that he wants them to forget about the week they had and start from scratch. Or more like the way they were last week-end.

Cyril doesn’t say a thing during the week-end, Camille doesn’t try to reach him.

On Monday, they’re both so nervous about their day, they both fuck a few things up. Camille could barey sleep and is so tired for his morning show that Clément and Laure keep on teasing him about his ‘wild night of sex’ during the breaks. On his side of things, Cyril takes more than three hours to record Les Pieds dans le Plat.

At D8, Cyril is excited about the show and the week, he’s not so tired and it feels like everything could happen tonight. He didn’t see Camille or talked to him in three days, he feels good about it. They’ll see each other and it’ll be like before. He’s nervous throughout the whole show and Isabelle asks him if he’s alright and he gives him a big kiss because, he has the most amazing friends in the world.

Camille sleeps through the first half, his body completely shut down when he sat on the couch. He takes a coffee before walking onto the set.

And it is just like before. They bicker and fight and they bounce off each other like the old married couple that they are.

They go home, they’re happy. Something is missing, they both can feel it but they won’t acknowledge it.

A couple of days later, when he’s usually getting ready to leave, Cyril asks him about Céline. And he kind of breaks right there and then. He doesn’t cry, but his voice derails, suddenly high pitched. “We broke up.” He admits after Cyril keeps asking. Cyril is genuinly sad for Camille and he hugs him and Camille, of all things that could happen in such a moment, like crying like he wants to, or just you know, accepting a hug, no, no, he just feels so much better. Like everything is right in the world again. And that, he can’t take. So he flees.

Around 4am, Cyril sends him a text. “Was it because of me?” Camille lies and says no. Then he beats himself up for it because it’s not a lie, it’s the truth. It is his fault, not Cyril’s. He was the one to moan the wrong name, he was the one to kiss his best friend in his and his girlfriend’s bathroom, he’s the one with the feelings damn it.

He spends the weekend drinking and trying not to think about Cyril. But obviously, that’s he’s seem capable of. He even catches himself looking him up on Google -he’d already been through the pictures on his phone. Why in the end does he feel that way?

He doesn’t have the answer. No one does. L'Amour a ses raisons que la Raison ignore, isn’t it what they say?

On Cyril’s side, it isn’t exactly a happier scenario.

“So you went to see her at the hospital.” “Yes.” “Why didn’t you tell me?” “It slipped my mind.” “Right.” “And you were at her place last week.” “What?” “Last week. When you didn’t sleep at home. Don’t think I don’t notice when you’re not there.” “I- No I wasn’t at hers, why would I have been, I was at Camille’s.” “Right.” “He told me he’d just broke up with his girlfriend and I thought I could comfort him.” “They broke up just a few days ago.” “Well he was thinking about- how do you know that?” “You may spend all your time with him, but that’s brought me and his girlfriend closer. She’s a nice one.” “Yeah. They’re good for each other. Were.” “She also told me why they broke up.” “Yeah?” “Mhmh.” “And?” “You were at his place the other night.” “Yeah.” “I only asked you about Enora because I wanted to see how you’d react about the possibility of cheating on me.” “Alright.” “And you didn’t even throw in some of your favorites phrases like 'I wouldn’t do that!’, 'I only love you’, the ones you usually serve me and the ones I’ve grown used to.” … “Don’t you have something to say to that?” “What do you want me to say?” “That you slept with Camille.” “I didn’t.” “Right.” “I didn’t.” “Call it however you want. But I’m only asking you, if it’s anything more than just phase, I would like you to tell me.” … “Isn’t it when you say it’s nothing, just a kiss and you only love me?” “Yeah. It was just a kiss, what do you want me to say?” “That you’re not pining for him!” “I’m not!”

The argument goes further than that, and it ends with Cyril sleeping on the couch. They’re breaking up but for the sake of the kids, they’ll do it properly.

When Camille hears about it through Isabelle, he offers Cyril to stay at his for the night. He insists and Cyril can’t say no. Camille only thinks it’ll be like before, a soirée pyjama watching stupid TV and pointing out the production errors. Or maybe they’ll play some FIFA or do something. He doesn’t expect it to end like the last time. He’s not thinking about, he’s not wishing for it. That’s what he tries to tell himself. But it does end up like the last one.

Camille’s setting up diner on this Thursday night. He puts the plates and all while Cyril is on the phone with his kids. And then later with his wife from what Camille can gather. And then he joins him in the kitchen and the sight of Camille in his environement, filling a bottle at his sink, it just strucks a cord and his heart melts and in a matter of seconds, he’s at his side, and turning him around and pushing him against the counter. And ravishing his mouth. Camille’s taken aback, but the second it all registers, he kisses back like his life depends on it. He cups Cyril’s face with his wet hands, and he just melts into the kiss, pushing him back against the wall and Cyril’s hands previously on hips hike up his shirt and he shivers when the cold air hits his hot skin, but Cyril’s hands are there to warm him up. And they travel on his body, griping his sides, stroking his back, coming back on his front, getting to work on his belt and fly. And he doesn’t think, he just lets Cyril do what he hinted at the past week. And he reciprocates because he’s got the hots for Cyril and he wants him desperately and they’re both single anyway and he wants to try it and maybe it’s a little bit messed up but he manages to make Cyril come and that’s the proudest moment of his night. He kisses the rest of his breathe away and they lay there on his kitchen floor for a few moments. Both spent. Both short of breathe. Both so in love. The way they look at each other (heart eyes bigger than any emoji) just says it all. Cyril can’t stop himself from stealing a kiss and the smile that grows on Camille’s face as he lets him. They’ve found each other, after years of chasing. Hand in hand, they go take that shower they both need before going to bed and going at it once more. They’ve lost too much time, they’ve got the whole weekend to sleep. Or the whole weekend to keep busy in bed and a few hours of sleep on monday morning.


End file.
